a thread that won't be cut
by elenathehun
Summary: The Uchiha say the ultimate form of their eyes allows the user to see the truth of all creation, unobstructed by lies. This is true. Madara really wishes it weren't, though, because then he wouldn't be marrying Senju Tobirama.
1. prologue

_the engagement_

The final meeting place was set: Lady Chiasa's garden pavilion. It was, perhaps, a little informal, but given the two parties involved, it was the best Shinju could do on short notice. The gardens weren't really in bloom at this time of year, but Chiasa's gardener did marvelous work on shaping the pine trees, and the pavilion was sited right next to the lotus pond, which was practically the only plant that _could_ bloom in the terrible summer heat. The Uchiha leader's brother had looked rather put-out about the setting for some reason, but, well, you couldn't make everyone happy.

Best of all, Shinju had barely needed to promise anything to Chiasa. The honorable head of the Takamura Silk Combine was still so grateful for the services Shinju had provided in finding a suitable wife for her idiot son, she was only too happy to provide the location for the culmination of a difficult negotiation. The chance to gloat of having been the formal witness for the engagement of the year - no, the _decade_ \- was reward enough for her. Of course, the vast majority of the work had been done prior to this meeting, but as every go-between learned - it wasn't over until the sake was drunk, and sometimes not even then. Even after this meeting, Shinju's services as a go-between and a negotiator would be necessary for quite some time.

At dawn, Shinju was already waiting in the pavilion, Lady Chiasa by her side. Nana had already helped her set out the table and put out the requisite number of cushions before retreating to the main house; as the honorable guests refused to take food or drink from a strange household, there was no need for a server. The sun had barely cleared the horizon before the guests arrived: silently, and all at once, as was their wont. Shinju didn't give any hint of surprise, but Lady Chiasa was less than circumspect. She flinched, and hissed nearly silently through her teeth.

"I always forget how quiet they are," the older woman said, eyes flickering from one group to another. Both groups, Shinju was happy to see, came in formal robes: black for the Uchiha, cream and brown for the Senju. It was a far cry from the earlier meetings, which had been fairly bristling with armor and weapons. Oh, Shinju was absolutely sure every member of the crowd had some kind of concealed weapon on them, but at least it wasn't _visible_ , and that was the important thing.

"Welcome," Shinju said, projecting a warm, personal tone into her voice. It was so important to seem confident and assured in these moments! More than one negotiation had ended because the mediator had lost control of proceedings. Shinju was determined that wouldn't happen here. "Please, come inside; the table has already been set."

There was a brief pause, and then Lady Mito strode up the steps and walked into the pavilion, resplendent in her clean mint robes. Today her obi was a lovely teal - the exact shade of her inner collar, as happened. Not for the first time, Shinju wondered how such a cultured, educated woman had fallen in love with Senju Hashirama; truly, it was a mystery for the ages. Mito smiled a little when she reached the table, for she'd seen that her setting had already been assigned: the third chair, to the right of her brother-in-law and across from Uchiha Izuna, thorn that he was. Lady Mito had been invaluable in the previous meetings in quelling the younger man's objections, sometimes with just a single cutting glance. He absolutely would not be allowed to rile up either of the prospective grooms, at least not in her presence.

One by one, the other guests filed in and sat at their assigned settings: Hashirama Senju, who was an uncultured oaf with the power to destroy entire cities, if rumor was true; Uchiha Madara, no less infamous for his uncanny ability to get any requested job done on time and under budget, with the caveat that a great many people would be dead, some of whom you actually might want alive; Senju Tobirama, who cut the raindrops in the sky and still remained dry; Uchiha Izuna (the less said about him the better); and finally, Uchiha Miwa, who still seemed to observe the proceedings with a keen and discerning eye, for all that she was completely blind in her senescence.

Once they had settled, Shinju smiled once more. "Again, thank you for meeting me here. This should be quite quick; without the usual meal, we only need to exchange the betrothal gifts to make this arrangement official. Lord Madara, as the initiator of this process, why don't you begin?"

Lord Madara didn't bother to say anything to her, but by this point, Shinju was used to that: the man treated her like furniture most of the time. Puzzling, considering how insistent he'd been at the beginning that Shinju specifically represent him to the Senju clan, but perhaps that was just his way? He turned to his brother and held out his hand, and the other man put a simple box into it, a rather dubious expression on his face. Madara just huffed at him, before turning back to face Tobirama and sliding the box over the table to the white-haired man. Tobirama opened the box...

...and pulled out a _kaiken_. Of course. Shinju just sighed a little and adjusted her expectations once again. Most of her clients gave clothing or money, sometimes food if they were particularly wealthy or particularly poor. But then again, most of her clients were merchants or wealthy craftsmen; why would any of them bear a weapon when a shinobi could be hired instead?

Tobirama's face never changed expression, not as he inspected the scabbard, nor as he unsheathed the knife and turned it to and fro within his hands. Shinju could not tell on her own what the quality of the knife was, and she could not read any tells in Tobirama's face. In many ways, he was even more inscrutable than Madara. Madara had a temper, and he lost it quite frequently. Shinju had never seen Senju Tobirama smile, but nor had she seen him frown, either. His countenance remained as impassive as the surface of a still lake, at least in Shinju's presence. He resheathed the knife, nodded once, and put it back into the box before handing it to his brother. He then reached one hand into his own robes before pulling out a fan and holding it out, ribs first, towards Madara.

Mirroring Tobirama, Madara accepted the fan and opened it. It was, to Shinju's surprise, quite lovely: ivory slats covered with fine red paper. A pair of swallows flew across the paper, painted in black ink - an appropriate choice for a betrothal gift. Madara twisted something in the base and thin blades sprung up out of the ribs. Shinju valiantly suppressed a smile; if this didn't have Uzumaki Mito's careful hand in it, Shinju would eat her sash for dinner. Madara, at least, seemed to be pleased. There was the faint suggestion of a smile lingering on his lips, and he closed the fan briskly before tucking it away in his robes. Tobirama, in contrast, was still completely unreadable.

As if hearing some silent call, each of the shinobi present then turned their attention to Shinju. She didn't give any sign of intimidation at the uncanny synchronization, only rested her hands on the table before giving her closing statement. It simply did not do to show fear in front of such people.

"Lady Chiasa has witnessed this exchange, and I will note the engagement with the proper authorities. A marriage date will be set in the future, after consultation regarding auspicious dates with the sages. In the meantime, please return to your lands. I will visit each of you in turn to make the final arrangements," Shinju stated, then stood and bowed to the collected shinobi. All of them rose and returned her bow, before filing out of the pavilion once again. Less than a moment later, they were gone.

Shinju waited a moment more, just to be sure, then sighed heavily and dropped her head on the table in front of her, already feeling a tension headache sear through her skull.

"Well," Lady Chiasa said mildly. "That was something else, wasn't it?"

" _Yes_ ," Shinju said emphatically. "I'm honestly surprised it's even gotten this far; shinobi are far touchier than the most sensitive, secretive guildmaster. It's the most complicated, frustrating marriage I've ever arranged."

"My dear," Chiasa replied. "You're young, so you don't know this yet, but peace treaties often are."

* * *

My sort of low-pressure romance fic. Originally posted on AO3 on 8/13/16.


	2. part one

_Before the engagement_

"So what are we going to do now?"

Madara didn't bother to look at Izuna; he'd seen enough of the angry, frustrated, _disbelieving_ expression on his face, all the way back to the compound. Looking at his face again was just going to make him angry too, and he couldn't afford to get angry, not now. Not after what they'd learned earlier today.

"We're going to have to find some way of approaching them," Aunt Miwa replied, her hands tented in front of her sightless eyes. "Some way that shows we're sincere in the matter, not insulting them."

Despite himself, Madara huffed out a laugh. "Oh, yes, that will be easy. Let's just send a messenger with a letter: _Dear Hashirama. I need to marry your brother; I'll throw in a peace treaty to sweeten the pot! Regards, Madara._ Yes, I'm sure that will go over quite well with him."

"Senju Hashirama is a bleeding-heart idealist - worse than _you_ ," Izuna said contemptuously. "He might believe it's romance or something like that."

"Hashirama may be an idealist, but he's also an older brother," Madara snapped, turning his head towards his brother and frowning deeply. "If he sent a message to me saying he wanted you as the price of peace, how do you think I'd take it? How would the clan take it? Think about that, and think about how we make our approach - because that is the message the Senju will receive, and I assure you, we're not that different from them in our reactions."

"Yes, because we're all the same," Izuna sneered in response. Madara hissed at his brother, half-rising from his seat.

"Enough!" Aunt Miwa snapped, slapping both palms on the table in front of her. The china set out for tea rattled ominously.

* * *

 _After the beginning_

"So you've activated the Magenkyō," Miwa said neutrally. There was no outward change in Madara and Izuna's posture or breathing, but right on cue, their chakra flared up uncontrollably. Miwa would sigh, except her own mother had beaten that habit out of her forty years ago when she first began wielding the war fan. But it was not such a surprise that their new Clan Head and his brother were so undisciplined, given how they had been raised. Kameyo had spoiled her surviving sons far too much - but then again, her niece had always been soft-hearted about her children. How she'd _raged_ when the Senju had assassinated her younger sons - for every son she'd lost, she'd gone on to kill a score of Senju in return in those bloody years of drought and famine...

"Honored Elder Aunt, how will we train?" That was the younger of the two brothers: Izuna, with a faint edge of impatience to his voice. The boy had a suspicious nature and tended to hold a grudge; not a bad counterweight to the elder brother. Miwa didn't bother to answer, only spun around and started walking towards the training grounds, barely hearing both of them obediently fall into step behind her. A part of her was pleased by how silent they were; another part was annoyed since it made it harder to keep track of them.

The path she was walking was one she knew by heart: twenty-six steps north on the main path, then turn forty-five degrees to the right and walk behind a row of dilapidated storehouses, stopping after one hundred and forty-five steps and making the sign to dispel before walking a further fifty-two feet into the hidden willow grove. Both of the boys were silent and unsurprised - they'd probably found this area as children. It had been a formal training ground during her childhood, but with the clan growing smaller, it had fallen into disuse like so much of their property, and now, it was just a haunt for the wild rabbits and domesticated crows.

"All right, it's quiet enough here," Miwa said. "Go ahead and activate the Sharingan. Let's see what you can do."

* * *

 _Before the engagement_

"Enough," she repeated, softer this time. "Madara is right - we can't just blatantly demand Tobirama Senju as the price for peace. But we can't reveal the true reason, either."

"Because the true reason is bullshit," Izuna baldly stated.

"Take it up with the old man under the moon, for he is the one who ties the strings," Aunt Miwa replied, her own voice dry as a desert. "For my part, I am not willing to go against destiny or divinity; nor am I willing to curse your brother to a solitary existence. I didn't think you were, either - or have I misjudged you?"

Izuna settled into a mulish silence, and Madara was thankful for it. His headache was bad enough without Izuna's shouting adding to it. Aunt Miwa reached out to pour another cup of tea, and fumbled at the teapot, off-center from where she'd placed it earlier. Madara silently helped her pour another cup, and then poured one for himself. He found himself peering into the bottom of his cup, as though sub-par green tea could give him the answers he sought.

"Just... why _him_?" Madara exclaimed suddenly. It had been bothering him since the revelation this morning. "That's what I don't understand! Why would the gods choose him as a destined partner for _me_? I've never said a word to him thus far!"

Aunt Miwa sighed very deeply and raised her right hand to rub at her brow. For just an instant, a vision of Madara's mother was superimposed on top of his aunt's figure. She'd performed the same action, day after day, year after year, always wondering why her eldest son was so thick-headed. _Can't I have a sensible one?_ she'd ask, eyes staring up the at the ceiling beseechingly. _All I have is this one and his brother, and they both have the sense Amaterasu gave a particularly stubborn goose._

"An arranged marriage is, by definition, not a love match," Aunt Miwa said instead. "You don't need to know him, you don't need to speak with him, and you certainly don't need to understand why you're tied together. It might be as simple as the gods getting sick of our constant warfare, like those thrice-damned priests always say; that's the only way I can justify it."

"You weren't saying that earlier," Izuna muttered.

"Shut up," Miwa said, voice carefully even. "Things were different, earlier. I assumed the person at the other end of Madara's thread was one of the clan, perhaps a branch house member he'd never spoken to before."

Madara felt a strangled laugh rise up from his diaphragm, and he ruthlessly suppressed it. "Well, you were half right: it _was_ a person I've never spoken to before. And now I need him to agree to marry me _without_ explaining my sudden change of heart."

"This is bullshit," Izuna repeated, his face set into a stubborn frown. "We're shinobi, not penny-pinching _merchants_. Arranged marriages are stupid as hell, and marriages arranged by heaven, if any such place exists, are _especially_ stupid."

"You won't get any argument from me, nephew," Aunt Miwa replied.

* * *

 _the beginning_

"Out of the way!"

His mother's voice rings across the battlefield like a bell, and almost despite himself, Izuna turns his head in the direction of her cry, trying to see where she is. There! On the right, near the Kaguya clan's right flank, next to that monster they unchain every so often and let out to rampage on the battlefield, killing foe and friend alike. Madara is ten feet away, on his knees, trying to get back on his feet as the beast reached for him-

Izuna can only watch in horror as the creature reaches for his brother's chest, bones already sprouting from the skin, gleaming in the light. Too fast, too _fast_ , even with the Sharingan Madara can't move any faster - _something is wrong with his right leg_ -

And then Mother leaps forward and slams into the berserker from the side, almost knocking it over entirely. One overhand strike with her sword, then another - Mother keeps hammering at the beast until her sword breaks in half, then leaps away to a safer distance. Izuna joins her there, a trail of lesser Kaguya clansmen bleeding and dying behind him, and together, with the smoothness of long practice, they begin making the seals for the mass fireball technique as the creature stumbles around, discombobulated by all the hard blows.

"Now!" Mother snaps, and they release the jutsu together, white-hot flame streaming from their mouths.

But the berserker doesn't flinch, no matter how much flame they pour on. The sickly scent of burnt flesh rises, but Izuna is used to it: it's been a near constant background scent his whole life. He'd be a poor Uchiha if he couldn't work through it. Izuna can feel sweat streaming down his face from the exertion and his mother no doubt looks similar: it's been a long battle and they're both about tapped dry. Despite their effort, the Kaguya's pet monster continues to regenerate, new skin and muscle regrowing as the old is burned away.

Just when Izuna can feel his chakra run out, his brother smoothly steps in. Well, not so smoothly; he has a pretty bad limp. Izuna doesn't have the time to evaluate Madara any further - the battle is essentially won for the Uchiha, but the berserker isn't retreating with the rest of his clan - probably doesn't even know how to. He just keeps walking into the flame, still focused on them above all else. Izuna doesn't bother to swear - it's a waste of precious breath - but he puts his sword up into the guard position and begins circling to the right, mother doing the same from the left with her wakizashi. Thankfully, the monster is still too focused on the source of its pain to pay any attention to either of them.

And then suddenly, shockingly... Madara's stream of fire _sputters_ before going out entirely. Time's up - Izuna roars as he thrusts with his sword, but the berserker doesn't even flinch, just parries his blade with one armored arm. The blow sends a shockwave up Izuna's arms, and he nearly drops his sword, fumbling it as he tries once again to hit the bastard. It's no use, though - Izuna sees that clearly. The monster is too fast, still possessed of the freakish endurance and power of the Shikotsumyaku bloodline limit, and Madara, yet again, is trapped by his own lameness. _Why couldn't you retreat, you fool?_ , Izuna screams in his mind, but he knows why. Madara would no sooner leave his last living family than Izuna would, or Mother herself.

Izuna drops the sword in the dust, makes one final leap into the path of the Kaguya clan's pet monster. He doesn't think _I'm sorry_ because he's not, and anyway, his brother would make the exact same choice if were in the same position. But just as he reaches the point of no return, Izuna feels a twist and yank on his left arm, and he ends up crashing into Madara instead.

From his brother's arms, Izuna can only watch, unblinking as his mother-

His mother is-

Surely, she'll-

No, it-

No!

* * *

 _after the beginning_

"The Magenkyō Sharingan is both an evolution of the Sharingan and a radical break. The base abilities are all extensions of the skills you've already obtained, just at a higher level - but each individual eye has it's unique powers and abilities. You'll need to do extensive experimentation to discover what yours is," Miwa lectured, leaning against an old and very comfortable willow. The susurrus of the wind in the leaves was pleasant, as wass the shade from the unseasonable heat of late spring.

"And what was yours, Aunt?" Izuna again. Miwa had noticed he did a lot of the talking for both himself and his brother. Miwa didn't know them well enough to tell if that was good or bad.

"Time dilation genjutsu," Miwa replied, shrugging. "Only an instant in physical time, but it feels many times longer to the target. I found it excellent for both interrogation and teaching."

"Teaching?" That was the older boy's voice this time. Interesting; most Uchiha, Miwa had found, were rarely interested in the non-offensive capabilities of their most precious gift. In this, at least, Madara was proving himself at least a little bit different.

"Imagine: an advanced lesson with a student that goes on as long as necessary, but only takes a moment of time," Miwa stated in a neutral tone. "I found it useful in imparting certain advanced skills to some of the Clan."

"That's amazing," he breathed in awe, and Miwa couldn't help the small smile creasing her lips.

* * *

 _before the engagement_

"Ah, here's a cheerful thought: at least you've never tried to kill him," Izuna said, full of false cheer. "Because I really think there's no way you could convince Senju Tobirama to marry you, short of Sharingan-induced genjutsu, if you'd ever personally crossed blades."

"No, I'm only the leader of a clan he's spent his whole life hating, presumably dedicated to our complete destruction," Madara replied sarcastically.

"Yes, well, we've covered this already," Aunt Miwa sighed. "I would rather we turn our thoughts to more productive lines of inquiry, like what possible envoy we can send to the Senju that will allow us to open talks instead of restart hostilities."

Izuna turns away, but not before Madara sees the stubborn look on his face. Wonderful; he'll be no help at all, not that Madara expected any assistance from that quarter. Miwa, on the other hand, looks to be seriously thinking of a way to open a channel with the Senju. Madara doesn't expect much from her, either. She's an old woman: trying to find a way to make peaceful contact with the Senju must be killing her inside. It's certainly something she's never in her life had considered seriously before today.

Madara's gaze drifted across the decorative screens, eyes unfocused and unseeing. No shinobi clan would represent them in this matter, not after what happened to the Nishihara clan when they attempted to negotiate a cease-fire some decades ago, but direct engagement was...risky. More than risky, if Madara was honest with himself. Hashirama had extended his hands in peace multiple times since his ascension as leader of the Senju clan; for Madara to take it now, but with such a condition attached…

Yes. Taking his brother away - that might very well trigger Hashirama's deeply buried temper.

* * *

 _after the beginning_

"And what about this?" Madara questioned. Miwa once again repressed the urge to sigh. From his tone, the boy is probably pointing something out something newly visible to his vision, but she'll be damned if she'll guess what it is.

"There's a red thread tied to Brother's left ankle," Izuna volunteered, barely suppressed laughter in his voice. That one never missed a thing - another good sign.

"Oh, is that all? I'm sure your mother told you boys how she and your father were married," Miwa said dismissively. It's only after the words leave her mouth that she considered the reminder of their recent loss too blunt, but better here, in private, than later, in public. Clutching grief close never did anyone in their family much good.

"You're joking," Madara said flatly. "She said she was introduced to Father at the river shrine by a relation who'd tutored him in genjutsu. She says she _knew_ as soon as he spoke to her, that it was fated."

"Who do you think introduced them?" Miwa questioned slyly.

Both brothers are utterly silent for a moment, and then-

"Are you serious?" Madara near-shouted. "I thought Mother was just being sentimental!"

* * *

 _before the engagement_

"Merchants," Madara said suddenly. Izuna turned back around, and his aunt turned her head in Madara's direction, a curious expression on her face.

"We all know merchants have arranged marriages," Madara elaborated. "They must have someone to negotiate them, as well; I never met a people as concerned with contracts as merchants."

"A _nakōdo_ ," Aunt Miwa mutters. "I was hired by one as a young woman - a marriage she had arranged had fallen through, and the bridegroom's family decided to take their disappointment out on her."

Izuna sighed heavily before turning back around. "So merchants need an intermediary to set up their weddings, just like they need an intermediary to kill their business rivals. How will that help us?"

Madara almost resisted the urge to glare at his younger brother. Almost. "We hire one to act as our representative in the matter. You're right, we're shinobi, not merchants: we have no experience in this. I have no issue with hiring an expert to show us the way."

Izuna snorted. "Yes, because civilians are so willing to work for common murderers like us."

"That," Aunt Miwa said reprovingly, "is a case of doing our research ahead of time, and finding a matchmaker who is, perhaps, a little less established than most. I find the young have more appetite for a challenge - and more to prove to their elders."

Madara and Izuna had little to say to that.

* * *

 _after the beginning_

"In a way, she was," Miwa replied, already bored. "I know it's been a long time since we've had more than one or two Magenkyō users in a generation, but surely the old stories still circulate."

" _See the truth of all things_ is very different from _the gods are real_ ," Izuna said in a biting tone.

Miwa scoffed, utterly incensed. "Boy, chakra is a gift from the gods; _of course they are real_. I don't know if Yuè Lǎo is one of them, but I can tell you this: for certain the red threads of fate exist, and they _always_ connect two people who are meant to be together."

It was Izuna's turn to scoff in disbelief, but he fell silent when Miwa pointed one finger at him. "One of your duties, now that you've awakened the Magenkyō, is to see which of our clansmen have red strings around their ankles and arrange for them to meet their destined partners as soon as possible. That one of you has a partner of your own does not change things-"

"The hell it doesn't!" Madara hissed at her. "What the hell am I supposed to do with a wife?"

"I said partner, not wife," Miwa snapped at him, finally losing what little remained of her patience. "And you'll do what your parents did, which is marry that person, and live a long, happy life together. What the hell kind of question is that?"

Madara fell silent, and from the oppressive aura emanating from his direction, Miwa is certain the boy was sulking.

"...a long, happy life together?" Izuna questioned, softer this time.

Miwa blinked a little and then nodded firmly. "A long, happy life together. Is that not what every marriage ought to be?"

* * *

Originally posted on AO3 on 8/20/16.

You may note that this is a different interpretation of the history of the Magenkyo Sharingan. I can well believe that Madara and Izuna were the first people to figure out the weird game of "swap the eyes!" to level up their magic to the SUPER-DUPER LEVEL, but it's pretty hard for me to believe that they were the first people in their family to develop the Magenkyo at all.

Obviously, the abilities are slightly different, too ;)

Next chapter: Hashirama receives an unexpected counter-offer, the Senju react with the predictable riot, Mito is the sole voice of reason, and Tobirama is the only one who doesn't know quite what to think.


End file.
